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I should open up to what’s happening here. It could be something amazing.
I want to give this blossoming feeling I have toward Hazel a real shot. I want to let roots burrow down in my being so something great can grow.
But now, her mention of becoming my manager has cast a cold chill over my body.
She’s right.
We won’t just be coworkers—which is bad enough—but she’ll be the person I report to. She’ll assign all my tasks, monitor my hours, and give me an annual review.
I scratch the back of my head. “Yikes.”
“Yeah. Yikes.”
She props her door open, then lingers there with her fingers brushing the door handle. “There are policies against dating, too. I am sure you know that.”
“I—um?—”
This woman is on the brink of becoming my supervisor. Admitting that I’ve never actually read the company policies might not be the wisest move.
Not word for word.
She knows me too well. One eyebrow arches. “Tell me you read the policy, Jack.”
Her tone tells me she’s already guessed I haven’t.
“I skimmed back when I got hired.”
“Hm…”
“I bet you know it well enough to recite it,” I guess.
She nods. “And I brushed up on it after our… our goodnight, last night.”
I know exactly the good night she’s referring to.
It is front and center stage in my mind, now that my flip-flops are once again planted on her bungalow’s front stoop.
I have a sneaking suspicion that tonight will not end in the same manner—despite how much I’m dying for a repeat.
She holds up three fingers. “There are three reasons Buzzy Digital Marketing prohibits romantic relationships among staff. The first one has to do with potential harassment lawsuits. The second is that they can present a conflict of interest. Third, they decrease productivity.”
“You didn’t just brush up on the policy. You memorized it.”
“It’s easy to commit information to memory if it’s extremely relevant to your life.” She stares at the keycard in her hands, then looks over her shoulder at her empty bungalow. “I—I think we need to be careful. Also, if you did post a photo of us online, it might be wise to take it down. Even though we were just posing, it’s better if people don’t get the wrong idea.”
“Right. That could get messy.”
I want to go inside with her.
I want to sit on that white, puffy couch I can see from here and talk with her for hours.
All I know about her is that I don’t know nearly as much as I want to.
I want to hold her, and kiss her, and fall asleep with her.
Hawaii is a romantic place. Maybe that’s why, right now, all I want to do is step closer to her and place the curve of my palm along her neck. All I can think about is lowering my lips to hers like I did last night.
The door behind her is open. I can imagine too well how it would feel to stumble backward together and land on her couch.
